


Private Screening

by fyredancer



Series: Kaulitz Twin Movie Night [1]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: M/M, PWP, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom manages to wangle a private viewing of the new Transformers movie.  Bored Bill is bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Screening

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed, because I ~~was too impatient to find someone who met all the criteria~~ couldn't find anyone to do it. Thanks to cream_and_sugar for the prompt, a nod to [Rob's Transformers 2 FAQs](http://www.toplessrobot.com/2009/06/bonus_robs_transformers_2_faqs.php?page=1), and much appreciation to my G1 for bearing up under 2667 words of porno. I can't believe I wrote this on my phone.

"Tomi. I'm bored."

Tom shifted a little lower in his theatre seat, irritated by the expectant tone of Bill's idea of a "stage whisper." If they hadn't been alone in the theatre, he knew, heads would have been craning around in the seats in front of them. "What do you expect me to do about it?" he hissed back, only half paying attention to how he phrased his response. It wasn't every day they could score a private viewing of a movie, rock stars or not, and Tom had been looking forward to the new Transformers movie for months.

A heavy, warm weight settled against his side. "Entertain me," Bill said in a hot gust of air against his neck.

"Bill!" Tom blurted, scandalized. His voice came out a little more girly and breathy than he intended and he slouched lower to compensate. "Not _here!_ "

Bill withdrew into the boundaries of his own chair, aiming a pout at Tom that could be seen even in theatre dark, even without looking. "But I'm so bored," he said again. "We should have just downloaded it for you; then I could be at home not being bored while you watch it."

"It's not the same! You have to see Transformers on a big screen. Come on, Bill, the movie is--" Tom checked his watch "--about two-thirds done, you can wait it out."

The dark head beside him dipped as Bill slumped in his seat, setting his long, long legs against the seat in front of him. "I'm going to die of boredom before this movie ends. Why is there a slutty Decepticon, Tom? Why didn't Sam use his shard of the Allspark to resurrect Optimus? Why did all of the Primes entomb themselves to protect the Matrix when they could have, you know, stayed alive to protect it?"

Tom shifted in his seat to glare at his little brother. "Bill, I swear to god, if you don't shut up--" He let the threat hang and Bill's eyes flashed in the reflected light from the screen.

"Oh,, you'll what? Have a theatre usher kick me out? I'd like to see you try," Bill scoffed. "Come on, this movie is dumber than Megan Fox, who you're not even interested in..."

"Yeah, but I should be," Tom muttered, trying to scoot down lower in his chair, but there was only so far he could go before the row in front of him impeded his view of the screen.

Their management had scored them a private viewing of Transformers, so of course Tom had jumped at the chance. He was beginning to regret the fact that he'd taken Bill instead of arranging it for a weekend when Hagen and Wolfgang weren't busy. At least they would have appreciated all of the explosions and giant robot fight scenes that were really all that Tom expected from the film.

"What was that!?" Bill hissed.

"Nothing!" Tom said hastily. Even implying that he thought he should be with a woman, actually be with her instead of going through a publicity set-up with label connections like Chantelle, got Bill's hackles up in no time.

Bill was suddenly slung over Tom's legs. "I'll show you nothing," he threatened.

"Bill," Tom said, breathless but determined.

"This movie blows," Bill continued. "So I may as well blow you."

A sudden whine caught in the back of his throat as Tom tried to protest and inhale at the same time. This was so, so wrong. They'd already come so close to getting caught three times this year, which terrified Tom to no end and shook Bill up after the fact - he never seemed to remember that beforehand. They actually had gotten caught by David twice, which didn't count as David covered for them, but that had resulted in Bill's current moratorium on public appearances. 'Until he cools down,' David had said, which would be somewhere around never.

Tom's legs were already spreading, though, as Bill put a hand on each knee. He tried to tell himself it was involuntary, it was a conditioned response; it was why he jerked away whenever Bill touched his knee in public. His cock was already perking in his boxers even as he tried to fix his attention back on the screen and whatever the hell the Beef was freaking out about. Bill was touching him, and had the intent to _keep_ touching him, and Tom's cock was aware of the distinction.

"What if someone comes in?" Tom tried, but it was a weak effort and the amused glint in Bill's eyes as he leaned over Tom's lap acknowledged that fact. No one had come into the theatre since the manager himself had escorted them to the door.

"Then we tell them I bent down to pick up our spilled popcorn bucket," Bill said innocently.

Tom blinked. "But we didn't spill any--"

Bill batted at the jumbo tub propped on Tom's other armrest. It toppled over in a cascade of white fluff. "Oops," he said with a smirk. He looked up at Tom for a second, then demurely lowered his eyes until his face was in shadow. "I'd better pick that up, they've been nice enough to give us a private show."

Tom's breathing sped up as Bill lowered himself to his knees on the theatre floor. "Bill, don't," he tried one last protest. "The floor, it's dirty..." His cock didn't seem to care, though; it was pushing up hard enough as though it wanted to unzipper his pants all by itself.

"Screw dirty; it's hard concrete, it hurts my knees," Bill complained. "Give me your sweater." He was already palming the bulge of Tom's erection where it tented up his baggy jeans.

"What? No!"

"Give me your sweater or I'm not staying down here," Bill threatened, raising a hand and holding it palm-up.

"You know, this was all your idea in the first place," Tom grumbled, but he was already shrugging out of the over-sized sweater he'd thrown over his shirts. He spread his legs a little wider and tried not to make the undignified squeak that he hated. It was cute on Bill, not him. Just to cement his stance of opposition to this undoubtedly bad idea, he added, "You're a dick."

"Shut up," Bill told him, undoubtedly with an unseen eyeroll. He stuffed Tom's sweater under his own knees, then draped himself over Tom's. "Who's a dick? I bet there are plenty of guys out there who aren't so reluctant to get a blow job."

"You shut up," Tom said, starting to surge out of his chair. He gripped at Bill's black dreadlocks, anger twisting into the heaviness of desire that was settling in his belly. "You'll never find out." He was selfish, so fucking selfish. They were what they were today because he couldn't bear to give Bill up to anyone else. He'd taken all of Bill's firsts when he'd promised Bill he'd be the last, the only.

Bill pawed at the buckle of Tom's belt. "Why don't you shut me up?" he challenged.

Tom groaned and relaxed against his seat as Bill's nimble fingers undid his pants and delved into the place where Tom's cock had tangled in his boxers as it made a bid for freedom. He gazed at the screen again, eyes hazy as he tried to figure out what the fuck was happening and if it, in fact, mattered enough for him to pay attention. Bill was sending hot breath over the tip of his cock now and it felt good, really good. Tom's whole body tingled with anticipation.

He didn't do anything more than that for a moment and Tom glared up at the movie, trying not to think about how Megan Fox really did look like a tranny and Bill would make for a much prettier love interest. Tom would never let him kiss anyone doofy-looking like Shia, though. Then Bill huffed what sounded suspiciously like a chuckle over the tip of Tom's dick.

"Asshole," Tom informed his little brother, angling his hips up to give Bill some 'encouragement.'

When Bill leaned away, Tom grabbed his dick in one hand, Bill's dreads in the other, and dragged his twin's smart mouth toward where he wanted it the most. "Oh, NOW you wa--" Bill began, and Tom pushed the head of his cock between Bill's lips with perfect timing.

With a happy sigh Tom settled back into his seat as Bill began to suck and tongue at his cock right away. He petted Bill's dreads in a needless apology; he didn't really like to be rough, but Bill enjoyed being coaxed. Now Tom had the best of both worlds; he was watching shit get blown up for inexplicable reasons and Bill's exquisite mouth was working him, chasing away whatever brain cells remained to quibble over nonexistent plot points.

A warm, wet tongue swiped around the head of Tom's cock and pushed down foreskin. Tom's eyes fluttered as Bill lavished his attentions on the tip of his dick. Bill opened his mouth wider and took more of him in.

"Shit!" Tom yelped, jolting as though he'd been shocked. "Watch the teeth, you sick bastard!"

Bill giggled around Tom's cock and bent his head back to his task. He swiped his tongue over the head, dragging his tongue stud over the sensitive little crease at the tip. He kissed it as though apologizing; wet open-mouthed kisses for Tom's cock. With a little sigh he sucked it into his mouth again. He licked around it and stretched his mouth down over the length.

Tom sighed. He couldn't slump down in the chair any more than he already was, but he spread his legs a bit. Mad explosions were going off on-screen and the two teenagers were running across the desert for some reason when they had perfectly serviceable robots that turned into cars. He threaded his hands into Bill's hair and bit his lip as Bill kept nursing at his cock, slow and steady and so fucking good.

Bill hummed around his mouthful and dipped his head. He braced himself against Tom with one hand and went down deep, pressing Tom's hard tip against the back of his throat and swallowing.

Tom loosed the undignified squeak before he could clamp down on his lip hard enough. There were few things in life that delivered more pure pleasure than Bill's throat opening up around him and sucking him greedily down. Bill's ass. Playing guitar for Bill. All Tom's best pleasures were Bill-related somehow.

He bit harder on his lip and kept his eyes on the big screen even as his cock was stroked back and forth in the vice grip of Bill's mouth and throat.

Bill deep-throated him through quick cuts of chase scenes and desert, parachuting troops and metal and the assembling of the gigantic Devastator. He pulled off and he was giving lazy, teasing licks to Tom's cock with his saliva-drenched lips and tongue when Tom began sniggering.

"What?" Bill demanded, sounding hurt. He pressed his face against Tom's thigh as though to bite.

"I am standing directly beneath the enemy's scrotum," John Turturro announced.

The twins both dissolved into laughter. Bill collapsed over Tom's thighs and huffed against his crotch. "Are you the enemy, Tomi? I'm right below your balls." He stretched forward and kissed one.

Tom's chuckle turned into a groan and he tried to keep it quiet. He pushed up a little and rubbed his hand over Bill's roots. "Don't stop now, come on. You're so good, and I'm almost there." He looked down into Bill's shadowed face and caught sight of the curve of a pleased smile before Bill lowered his head again.

He had to bite down on his lip again in fairly short order as Bill began to really suck at his cock, slurping around him with wet sloppy noises. He dragged his tongue stud against the central vein with just the right amount of pressure. Tom forgot everything. He lost his hands in Bill's hair, he was barely following the movie at all but there were a lot of booms and shrapnel and flying robot bits, and there was a hot mouth working back and forth over his cock. Bill was sucking his cock and making those sexy little sounds that only escaped him when he was really into it.

Tom panted through his nose, hard. He kept his teeth buttoned firmly over his lower lip to prevent the tiniest whimper or groan from escaping otherwise he'd be loud. Then Bill picked up the pace again and opened his throat over the head of Tom's cock and he was stroking and tugging in all the right ways that meant 'sex' and 'Bill' and 'now.'

"B-Bill, I'm--" Tom tried to warn him, and a strangled noise caught in his throat as he arched up off his seat. "Oh, fuck!"

Bill let Tom's cock slip out far enough that he had only a mouthful. He guided Tom's throbbing, spurting dick with one hand, catching the pearly ribbons of emission in his open mouth as Tom came, and came.

Tom tried to push himself up in his seat a little, fascinated by the sight of Bill drinking everything he had to give. His arms gave out on him. Bill got up, setting the mostly-empty popcorn tub on Tom's right armrest, and gave him a saucy wink as he patted Tom's spent dick and swallowed.

"Oh shit. Ohhh my god," Tom gasped unsteadily as Bill settled back into his seat while wiping his mouth with a dainty hand.

"Good?" Bill purred, leaning over the armrest. Tom's eyes flicked toward him then back to the big screen.

"I think I came right when Sam went to Autobot heaven," Tom said, kind of in awe at his brother's timing. With belated modesty he tucked himself back into his boxers and reassembled his jeans.

Bill smacked his arm and drew back into his own seat. "You really are an inconsiderate jerk! I just gave you theatre head."

"And it was awesome," Tom said, trying to divide his attention between the climactic scene of the movie and his twin's now-pouting face. "It was amazing, incredible, you know you're the best." He reached for Bill's zipper. When one of them got hard, so did the other - it was just how it was.

"Don't worry about it, I already took care of it," Bill said, batting his hand away.

"Really? But where did you--" Tom knew Bill hated creaming his jeans; so tacky, so lower class. Not to mention it was too easy for someone to see and draw the right conclusion.

"Don't eat any more popcorn from the tub," Bill warned him.

Tom shuddered and his head thudded against the back of the seat. "That's so gross, Bill."

"What? Like you were going to eat popcorn from a tub that's been on the floor," Bill replied. "Give me your soda."

"No, I don't want you to get backwash in it." Tom shook his head and tried to watch the movie. Now he was kind of bored. Two and a half hours of action, and the resurrected Optimus Prime kicked everyone's ass in less than five minutes?

"Tomi." An insistent hand tugged on his arm.

"What, Bill?" Tom replied, trying his best not to sound put-upon. It had been _really_ good head.

"You owe me a midnight viewing of Harry Potter for coming to see this," Bill informed him.

"Fine," Tom answered, already trying to think of a way out of it. It was very hard to disguise a pair of six-foot German rockers with such distinctive hair styles. Security would probably say no. Or at least, he was sure he could get David to say no, especially if he slipped the words 'theatre head' into the conversation. "But I'm not blogging this, not even in twinspeak."


End file.
